


Time Travel to Hogwarts

by TheAberrantInkwell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Parody, Shattering the Fourth Wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-27
Updated: 2013-01-27
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6689668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAberrantInkwell/pseuds/TheAberrantInkwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What really happened on the night of Harry's sorting? Percy Jackson showed up of course! Confusion over half-bloods, location, and time ensues—who will save Hogwarts from the chaos that is Percy? And who is the other half-blood lurking in Hogwarts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Travel to Hogwarts

“Jackson, Perseus,” the stern-looking cat-witch called out. Percy shifted from foot to foot, anxious for his name to be called. “Jackson, Perseus! Is there a Perseus Jackson here?” Someone hit him on the shoulder.

“Dude, isn’t that you?” Grover asked. Percy idly nodded, then did a double-take.

“Grover! You aren’t supposed to be here!” he whispered. Grover rolled his eyes.

“Neither are you!” he retorted. “Weren’t we going to Yancy?”

“Yancy-schmancy. I don’t want to put up with that Cheeto-faced bully. Besides, there are centaurs here.”

“Yeah, fortune-telling ones,” the satyr whispered exasperatedly.

“Better than the Party Ponies.” Percy stuck his nose in the air, waiting for his name to be called. The rest of the school was whispering as well, wondering where in the world the elusive Perseus Jackson could be.

“But you aren’t even supposed to _know_ about the Party Ponies yet!”

“Perseus Jackson!” the professor called again. Grover pushed Percy forward.

“Go on! McGonagall’s gonna be pissed enough as it is,” he said. Percy snorted.

“We’re in England—“

“Scotland!”

“We’re in Scotland, remember?” Percy muttered to his friend. “She’s not pissed. I doubt she’s been drinking at all.” Draco Malfoy came up behind him.

“Jackson! Would you quit talking to yourself and go get sorted?” the blond sneered, obviously unable to see Grover. Percy stuck his tongue out.

“I’m talking to my half-goat conscience over here, okay? Gods, you’d think you’re the all-powerful son of Zeus with the way you’re acting.”

“I am _not_ your conscience!” Grover protested at the same time Draco growled “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, right, that’s Annabeth’s job,” Percy realized. “The gods, _duh.”_ Grover smacked his forehead.

“You’re not supposed to know about Annabeth, either!”

“What gods?” Draco asked, frustrated with the apparently insane boy in front of him.

“But we’re dating!”

_“What?”_

“You’re only eleven! Besides, you don’t even kiss until the fourth book, and that’s just because she thinks you’re going to die in the volcanic eruption!” Grover’s eyes darted around shiftily. “Look at that, you just made me give away a plot point!”

Percy hit him on the back of the head. “Would you quit breaking the fourth wall? This is serious.”

“Jackson, go plant your crazy arse on that stool or I’ll make you!” Malfoy growled.

“Calm down, Draco. Besides, don’t you mean you’ll get your father to hire someone to make me?” Percy asked, slowly walking toward the Sorting Hat.

“Yes! I mean no. I mean—“

“Mr. Jackson?” Professor McGonagall asked, eyebrows raised. Percy smiled cheekily.

“That’s me!” he chirped “I’m Percy.”

“Short for Perseus,” she assumed.

“No, _Percy._ I don’t like that name,” he shuddered. “My father calls me that sometimes though, but I can’t really stop him. He’s a god!” Grover growled.

“You haven’t even met him yet!” McGonagall coughed.

“Very well,” she said, bemused. “On the stool then, Mr. Jackson.” Percy cheerfully sat down. The hat slid over his eyes.

“Hmm,” a voice muttered in his ear. “A demigod. Quite interesting.”

“Yup!” Percy grinned. “Son of Poseidon!”

“With an uncanny knowledge of the future,” the hat pondered. “Either you’re a seer, you’ve been blessed by Apollo, you’re an unknowing time-traveler, you’ve read the Percy Jackson and the Olympians books—which is rather unlikely, as the only character you’ve had contact with is Grover Underwood—or you’re the subject of a rather impossible fanfiction.”

“Wouldn’t you be able to tell if it was a fanfiction?” Percy asked.

“Me? Oh no, it all seems like reality to me.”

“So is it like a dream? If I realize I’m in a fanfiction can I start to control it like lucid dreaming?” Percy was bouncing on the stool in excitement, much to the bemusement of the rest of the school. The hat sighed.

“I’m afraid not. Only the author—“

“Can I try anyway? And what is it with you lot and breaking the fourth wall?”

“’You lot’?”

“I’m in England—“

“Scotland.”

“I’m in Scotland, aren’t I? So can I try it anyway?”

“You’re going to do it no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

“Mhmm. So…I want all the water in the Great Hall to go crazy!”

Outside of Percy’s little world, water was rising out of the goblets on the tables. It swirled around the room, splashing students in the face. It cascaded around Professor Snape, trying desperately to wash out his hair. It was utter pandemonium.

“It worked!” Percy cried delightedly. The hat shifted around on his head.

“You’re the son of Poseidon, you dimwit, of _course_ it worked!” it ground out. Percy chuckled.

“Whatever floats your boat—well, as long as dad isn’t angry. So, you gonna sort me?” He was bouncing again. The hat gave a long-suffering sigh, joined this time by Grover.

“Well, you’re at least somewhat intelligent—“

“Aww, thanks!”

“But you lack the drive it would take you to make it in Ravenclaw.”

“Darn.”

“You can be cunning, at times—“

“Um—“

“No, don’t worry, I’m not done. You don’t have the ambition or the ruthlessness that would allow you to survive in Slytherin.”

“Yay!” Percy cheered aloud. The rest of the school stared at him in disbelief.

“How much you wanna bet the hat just told him he wouldn’t be in Slytherin?” Fred muttered to his twin brother, who nodded in agreement.

“Now, you would probably scare the Hufflepuffs, no matter how loyal you are—no, don’t interrupt!” Percy slouched.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“And you’re recklessly brave, so really the only place you _could_ be is GRYFFINDOR!” it shouted to the hall. On principle, the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers.

Draco Malfoy relaxed.

At least he wouldn’t have to share a dorm with the crazy one.

Percy spaced out for the rest of the sorting, only coming out of it to shoo away any fellow students who tried to sit on his right side—that was where Grover was sitting. Not that he had to do it much—most were still freaked out (not to mention wet) after the water incident. After all the food appeared, Percy looked around, confused.

“Wha’ oo ‘ookin’ ‘or?” Ron Weasley asked, spraying food from his impossibly full mouth. 

Some of the other students looked disgusted, but Percy, well-versed in “eating boy” after his currently nonexistent time in the Hermes Cabin, replied “A fireplace.”

“Why d’you need a fireplace?” Dean Thomas asked.

“I need to make a sacrifice to my dad,” Percy said as though it were obvious. McGonagall looked down from the Head Table.

“Mr. Jackson, why aren’t you eating?” she called, causing the rest of the school to look at him in curiosity.

“It’s against my religion,” he called back. McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Then how are you alive right now? You need food to survive,” she argued. Percy rolled his eyes.

“I eat,” he replied, a “duh” prominent in the offing. The rest of the school’s heads were moving back and forth between professor and student as though watching some sort of bizarre tennis match.

“So why is it against your religion to eat now?”

“There isn’t a fireplace,” he told her, as though it explained everything from why the sky was blue to the meaning of life.

“What does that have to do with anything?” the Scottish witch asked, patience thinning.

“I have to make a sacrifice to my dad! I told you already, he’s a god,” Percy said indignantly.

“Percy, you _aren’t supposed to know that!”_ Grover yelled in frustration, only to be ignored. Again

McGonagall opened her mouth to set him straight, but was cut off by Professor Dumbledore. “Well then, my boy, why don’t we fix this problem?” His eyes were twinkling as he raised his wand. A fireplace appeared in the wall, right next to the Gryffindor Table.

“Thanks, sir!” Percy grinned and stood, scraping a large piece of fish into the flames. In his underwater palace, Poseidon grinned as a delicious smell flooded his nostrils. Then a thought overtook him—why was his son sacrificing? Shouldn’t he be at that delinquent school? A stretch of his consciousness told him that Percy was at a wizarding school on the opposite side of the Atlantic. And he knew about the gods. He sighed; it was time to bring in the big guns.

“Headmaster, is it really a good idea to fuel his delusions of grandeur?” Snape asked grumpily, still sopping wet after Percy’s water trick. Dumbledore merely gave a grandfatherly smile and Snape looked away, disgusted.

Percy wasn't really paying attention while Seamus and Neville talked about their families, too busy staring intensely at his water goblet—or, rather, the water in the goblet.

“Percy?” Harry prodded, curious about the other boy. Said boy appeared to be spacing out. Of course, Harry didn't notice the literal whirlpool swirling inside the goblet.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, that’s great Neville.”

“Are you a muggleborn?” Ron asked.

Percy puffed his chest out. “I’m a half-blood,” he said proudly. The others looked at him strangely.

“Which is something you shouldn’t know!” Grover put in, only to be ignored again.

“Y’know, most people aren’t so proud about being half-bloods,” Seamus pointed out cautiously. Percy snorted.

“Why? I mean, sure, it can be dangerous—“

“Not as much as being a muggleborn,” Ron argued.

“I mean, with all the fighting and stuff—“

“Not since the last war,” Seamus said. “But I’ve heard the Death Eaters were pretty nasty.”

Percy stared at him blankly. “Are you talking about the American civil war—?”

“World War II!” Grover groaned.

“Are you talking about World War II?” he asked. “Cuz that’s the last time any children of Hades have been around—I mean, except for Bianca and Nico, but they don’t count.” 

Seamus stared before shaking his head.

“Whatever you say,” he muttered. “So which one of your parents is magic?”

“Magic?” Percy exclaimed. “I’m not a son of Hecate! My dad’s Poseidon!”

“But I thought you said—“

“He means half-blood as in demigod,” Hermione turned to them. “Haven’t you read the _Percy Jackson and the Olympians_ series?”

“Huh?” the boys just stared at her obliviously. She huffed.

“And _you!”_ she looked at Percy. _“You_ shouldn’t even be here.”

“Finally, someone who agrees with me!” Grover shouted.

“I’ve heard,” Percy said in a bored tone. “I should be at—“

“You shouldn’t even exist!”

“I know, I know, my dad broke the oath—“

“It’s September 1, 1991. You’re born on August 18, 1993!”

“You really _shouldn’t_ be here!” Harry said in awe.

“Besides, you aren’t even a wizard!” she told him. At that, a dead silence filled the Hall.

“What d’you mean, he’s not a wizard?” some unnamed Slytherin yelled. “Muggles can’t see Hogwarts!”

“He’s a _demigod!”_ Hermione explained in exasperation. “He’s half Greek god, half mortal, so of _course_ he can see Hogwarts! Besides, if he hasn’t even been born yet I hardly think the usual rules apply.”

“Half Greek god? So who is it?” another student asked. Percy gave a heaving sigh, rolling his eyes.

“Poseidon!” he snapped. “Zeus’s filthy underpants, how many times do I have to say it?” There was a crash of thunder. “Sorry Uncle!” he called to the ceiling. The doors banged open.

“JACKSON!” a girl yelled. She had spiky black hair, electric blue eyes, and wore punk clothing. “What the Hades are you doing here?”

“Thalia!” he grinned, running up and throwing his arms around her. “You’re not a tree!”

“Of course I’m not a tree you idiot, the me of this time hasn’t even made it to Half-Blood Hill yet!”

“So why are you here?” he asked as she shoved him off of her.

“Your father summoned me and told me to get you out of here, throw you in the Lethe, and return you to the proper time,” she listed. His eyes widened.

“No! I don’t wanna go!” he screamed.

“Yes! Yes he does!” Grover begged. “Please take him away from here. And give him a normal personality this time!” McGonagall stood up.

“There,” she said, satisfied as the boy fell unconscious from the stunner.

“Thank you,” Thalia said gratefully. “Now.” She snapped her fingers, the sound resonating around the Hall as the Mist came to her command. “Perseus Jackson—“

“Percy,” Grover muttered.

“Otherwise known as Percy, doesn’t exist, nor has he ever been to your school in England—“

“Scotland.”

“Nor has he ever been to your school in Scotland.”

Everyone’s faces became unfocused and Thalia quickly left, muttering about how demigods and magic should never mix. A single boy stood up from the opposite end of the Gryffindor table.

“So I guess I shouldn’t be here, either,” Jason Grace mumbled, running his hand over his blond hair as he walked out of the Great Hall. “Stupid Mercury and his time traveling ideas.”

**Author's Note:**

> And then there's Hermione, reading books that definitely don't exist yet.
> 
> This is from my ffn account (of the same username), and has been subject to edits. I'll only be bringing over select works from there.


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